Brian stepped from the cab, a slight scowl on his face as he stared at the small art gallery - one that he would have never envisioned himself revisiting. At least, not after the tragedy that had ripped his life apart three short, yet very long years ago. He couldn't believe he was here now. More than that, he was amazed by what he hoped to accomplish with this visit. He wasn't even entirely certain he knew what that was, either. Admittedly, it had been to reclaim Justin's last creations and return them to where they belonged - with him, and those that had loved him; however, could there be a deeper reason driving him now? At the time of making this decision, he had felt a sense of calm overtaking him... along with a feeling of something more. As much as he knew it would be healthy for him to be doing this in order to finally obtain closure, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that was the least of his objectives.

He didn't want closure. Mental health could be damned for all he cared. As he stepped to the doors that he almost found ominous, he felt a chill running down his spine. Something felt very wrong, but he couldn't identify the source. He became more unsettled the closer he came to the gallery doors, uncertain if it was this place, or something entirely different. Uncertain why he felt compelled to do so, Brian looked over his shoulder, making sure he was alone. Realizing he had made this trip alone, he had no reason to question that; however, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was near. His eyes narrowed as he swept them along the pavement, his gaze briefly touching on everyone that moved along the sidewalk. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Brian shrugged his shoulders and opened the gallery door, at once brushing his anxiety off as being a result of where he was now heading... and the reason for his visit. He couldn't fathom it being more than that.

Stepping inside, he was slightly relieved to find it mostly vacant, his disinterest in what the gallery currently had displayed easy enough for anyone to discern. His eyes sought out the lady that he recalled being the gallery manager, realizing she was the first step in getting to the owner - and more importantly, his own answers. He observed her quickly approaching him as a new arrival, her steps beginning to falter as she came closer - recognition immediately replacing the eager welcome that had been in her initial response.

Rolling his lips under, Brian suddenly realized he didn't remember her name... something he was notoriously known to do - when someone wasn't of any importance to him. Knowing such candor might not gain him the results he most desired, he was still brutally honest. "I'm afraid I don't recall your name... however, I do remember you." Brian decided a bit of flattery was more than in order... and what would perhaps gain him the best chance at cooperation. "I can say you are even more lovely than when we first met."

Arching her head back, the young woman laughed in delight... mindful to remember that this man didn't bat for her team - something that had been more than clear each time he had visited the gallery to visit his now deceased fiancé. "I see your charm still remains, Mr. Kinney. I do hope you have been well." She cleared her throat, before awkwardly adding, "I'm very sorry about your tragic loss. I never had a chance to pay my respects. Justin was a remarkably talented young man."

"Yes, he was..." Brian agreed, unable to keep the rough, and husky rasp from his voice. "I'm here regarding Justin's work; in fact, this is a trip that is long overdue."

"You've lost me, Mr. Kinney. Justin's work is long gone..." she spoke, slightly surprised when she saw the agony that immediately transformed the normal composure of Brian Kinney's face.

Despite expecting that to be his initial answer, Brian couldn't help but feel deflated at the audible confirmation. "I was afraid of that; however, it is what I had expected. That leaves me with two questions... who bought Justin's work - I'm assuming it was various art patrons, and where did the money go?"

Frowning in even deeper confusion, "Mr. Kinney, you were Justin's legal POA, a check was cut to you for the sale. Surely you received it?"

"I don't remember if I did." Brian thought about that for a minute, instantly realizing how he had lived his life for the past three years. He doubted he would have handled it personally. His entire existence had been centered around him losing himself in oblivion - anything that made his pain more bearable. Sadly, none of his methods helped with that. "Perhaps I did receive it. My accountant would have handled that for me."

Smiling in understanding, she placed a hand on his arm, her eyes filled with compassion. "Let's go to my office. I can look it up for you. At the very least, I can verify that the check was cashed."

Brian followed her down the short hallway, relegating her offer as insignificant. "I'm not interested in the money. That was Justin's - it has nothing to do with me. What I am interested in is reclaiming Justin's work, and displaying them where the people that cared about him can appreciate them. Information leading me to the buyers is all I need."

Once inside the office, she turned to face Brian, her hand outstretched, as she spoke, "Forgive my manners, Mr. Kinney. I didn't even reintroduce myself - I am Rebecca Boyd. However... Please, call me Rebecca. We're very informal here. Sadly, though, I'm afraid I can't be of much help to you."

Eyes narrowing, Brian watched as the gallery manager sat behind her desk, her fingers meticulously working over the keyboard. "I find it hard to believe that you don't keep some kind of record regarding such sales."

Looking up, she was quick to respond. "Oh, we do. It's just that our clients often request confidentiality. I remember in the case of this particular buyer - that was insisted upon."

"Did you say buyer... as in one person purchased all of Justin's work?" Brian knew he had to have been mistaken. And yet, he could see nothing but confirmation staring back at him.

"This buyer was quite enamored of Justin's work. And in all honesty, his creations were extraordinary."

Brian felt painful jabs in his heart the longer they spoke of Justin, and his work that would never be experienced by him, or the world again. His voice was rough when he spoke, "You can't tell me anything about the buyer - anything at all?"

Shaking her head, she smiled at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kinney." Looking away from the instant agony in the hazel eyes, she pulled up the file in front of her, a slight nod following. "As I thought. Justin's check was deposited... and a very sizable one at that."

Waving his hand, Brian repeated, "I don't care about that. I don't need Justin's money. I'm just glad to know he was paid for his efforts." Frowning, as he realized following through with this part of his visit would make him more fully revisit the painful past, Brian asked, "Could I speak with the gallery owner? Perhaps he will feel more comfortable disclosing more information..."

"I'm afraid not. Mr. Rappaport is traveling abroad. He checks in from time to time, but he has left the running of the gallery to me. I haven't spoken to him in the longest time; in fact, our correspondence is generally by email only."

After a moment of initial surprise, Brian smiled as he felt an opening being given. "Well then, Rebecca... I see no reason why you can't pass on a little inside information. I would be extremely appreciative... and no one would be the wiser. All I'm asking for is a place to start my search. If only for the sake of peace of mind, please give me that."

Sighing deeply, uncertain how she was finding herself so effortlessly swayed, she grudgingly admitted, "I guess I can see why you would want to retrieve Justin's work." She looked at her computer screen, slowly clicking on files that would give the answers the anxious brunet sought. "That's odd..." she mused aloud.

"What is?" he asked, his heart quickening in his chest, uncertain why learning the location of Justin's final works of art was so emotionally stimulating for him.

"There are no records of the sale... at least, regarding the customer." She looked up to meet Brian's disappointed gaze with one of immense surprise. "It was recorded, though. I handled the purchase and the shipment. But it's gone. Totally gone!"

Even through his supreme disappointment, he hadn't given up just yet. "You said shipment. Are you saying this wasn't a local buyer?"

"I don't remember all of the particulars; although, I don't believe he lived locally. And I can tell you for a fact, everything was shipped out of the United States." She bit at her lip, instinctively feeling she had already said far too much, yet, something about Brian Kinney's near desperation reaching out to her. "I've really said all I can, Mr. Kinney. In fact, I'm sure it's entirely too much."

Brian reached into his pocket, deliberately reaching for his checkbook. Perhaps this would make her feel more amenable, he thought to himself. He completely realized he was asking her to make unethical choices... however, he felt this was the right thing to do - at least, it was for him. "Rebecca, I am willing to be extremely generous. I know that what I'm asking of you stretches many boundaries. Just tell me where Justin's work was shipped, and I'll take care of the rest." He eyed her shrewdly for a long moment. "Lost records or not, I have a feeling you do remember that much."

"Yes, I do..." she admitted. She smiled at him weakly, before continuing, "I can't take your money, though. At least, not for this. Can I ask why you are beginning this search now? I mean, it's been three years."

Nodding, Brian felt she deserved the answer to that. "My head hasn't been in a rational place for a long time. I'm not even sure it is now, but I'm getting there. I may have lost Justin, but now that I'm thinking more clearly, I don't want to lose all that he accomplished as well. That would serve as an even deeper blow. Reclaiming his work would be like having a piece of him with me - something no one will ever be able to take away from me again." Rolling his lips under as he realized how much of himself he was revealing to this stranger, Brian humbled himself more than he ever had done before. "Please, help me bring him home... at least, this part that is still attainable."

Tears misting her eyes, she spoke the word that she knew would send this still grief-stricken man on his journey. "Barbados. Justin's paintings are in Barbados."

"Thank you," he gratefully whispered. Brian released a long sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. It was like an instant sense of relief had overcome him. What it all meant, he didn't know; although, one thing he did know for certain. He was going to Barbados. Today...

TBC